Page 17 of Obsession

Stressed by his temper, it takes a moment to comprehend him. “What?” I ask.

Jaegen waves impatiently, and the television turns on, automatically flipping to a news channel. What is displayed now is described as BREAKING.

A blonde English woman is in a helicopter, speaking urgently and loudly to be heard. “… casualties unknown!” she yells.

The helicopter’s camera pans to pandemonium below. There are overturned trains in the middle of the street, broken storefronts, raging fires with no end in sight, bodies crippled and ripped apart. In the center of it, standing on a mountain of concrete as helicopters and spotlights circle him, is Ryan.

To the credit of the newscasters, the camera has a fantastic shot of him. Ryan is as shirtless as Jaegen, with muscles so large they’re almost comedic: pectorals the size of tires, veins as wide and thick as a boa, neck like a fully grown spruce. He looks like a mutant. It would almost be a jump to call him human if not for his distinguishably sapien face. Then again, even that is different, given his missing ear.

I shift in discomfort at the memory. Aris took control of my body—our body, at the time—and ripped Ryan’s ear off for him speaking out of turn. And then, Aris turned him into a hulking monstrosity as a reward for Ryan’s worship.

When Aris and I left the Following, Ryan came after us, desperate to retrieve his master. Now, he must be on top of the world with Aris’ return. Following his orders.

The camera cuts to an anchorman safe in a studio, though he appears properly concerned for his colleagues in the aircraft. “Is there anything you can tell us from the scene?” he asks.

“Just that I’ve never seen anything like this—except for three years ago.” The woman shakes her head, and I walk closer to the television, hypnotized. The fear in her eyes reminds me of the look in Simon’s. His pain, feeling of powerlessness.

“What can you tell us about the creature on the ground? Do you believe it’s something made by the entity Aris? What is its purpose?”

“Destruction. Just utter destr—” Her voice cuts out as the microphone picks up something, and the helicopter trembles. The reporter looks out the window and shakes her head, face stark white. All professional calm, anything she might have learned or picked up through time as an on-site reporter has left, and she is abjectly horrified.

“It’s a monster,” she says.

The broadcast returns to the grim male anchor. “And on that front, we have eyes on Aris at his meeting with NATO leaders,” he says. He looks, and sounds, stressed. “Reports state that until parties reach an agreement, presumably surrender, the rampage in Berlin will continue.”

The television cuts to Aris in a suit. Dark-haired, clean-shaven and pale, he towers over most people, his broad shoulders and arrogant stance only making him look larger. With a smile that could rival the sun, he’s shaking hands with a group of politicians. At first, I’m surprised by the show of civility and the fact that Aris is actually touching these people, until I notice how terrified they look; it’s probably contributing to Aris’ massive grin.

The camera cuts back to the anchor. “Negotiations began twelve hours ago, and will likely continue into the night. As of this moment, the United Kingdom has sent troops to provide stability and support to Germany. The United States and France have also pledged military support, and there are discussions of drone strikes. Most troubling is the lack of confirmation of evacuation of Berlin and the surrounding municipalities, leaving the question of civilian casualties. We turn now to our senior news correspondent—”

The television goes black; apparently, I’ve seen all that I’m supposed to. I turn from the screen, interest slow to abandon.

I shake my head. “Why is he doing this?”

“It is how he is now—spoiled, infected,” says Jaegen. “You understand what is at risk. We must act now.”

“Now?”

“The sooner the better, wouldn’t you agree?” he asks tightly, noting my hesitation. He doesn’t like coddling; it is beneath him.

“Fine,” I say after a moment, and the pressure in my head relents slightly. I don’t think I’m ready to begin this insane plan that probably won’t even work, but he’s right—the sooner the better. People are dying. And I can do something about that. Potentially.

He smiles, dipping his head. “There are a few more things to discuss before we leave,” he says. “Before you make him forget, Aris will have gathered that you were with me.”

My eyes pop open. That detail evaded my notice, and it’s undoubtedly true. Aris is smart; he’ll catch on to what I’m doing, and his suspicion will make things infinitely harder.

Jaegen acknowledges my thoughts with an inclination of his head. “Yes. He will sense that something is afoot and attempt to turn you against me, but you cannot falter.”

Falter? They are hurting innocent people; I won’t be swayed to their side. Still… my curiosity is piqued.

“What kind of things will he say?” I ask.

Jaegen pauses. “What has he told you about me?” he says at length.

I lift my shoulder.

“Nothing? Now, that can’t be true.” Jaegen studies me, reading my mind perhaps. Finally, he says, “He might tell you that I spin… webs with your people.”

Webs?

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